


Sloshin' In My Galoshes

by Jaakkola



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Adventure, Alternative Universe - Fable Setting, Banshees, Banter, Big Damn Heroes, Heroes & Heroines, M/M, Magic, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 06:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21157109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: Don't take retrieval  jobs that require you to go into the hell hole now known as Wraithmarsh.Also known as "Fable AU where Flynn is the grandson of the Hero of Brightwall and Shaw is his long suffering guardian and they go on adventures in Albion and maybe kiss sometimes," but that title isn't as fun.





	Sloshin' In My Galoshes

**Author's Note:**

> For that one guy on Twitter that went "grrr everyone write fairshaw fic now". Also for me. Mostly me. This is entirely self indulgence.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Fairwind muttered under his breath as the two looked out into the ghastly sight that was Wraithmarsh.

"You need to be seen as reputable," Shaw said for the umpteenth time, "and nothing gets people talking like one of the last Heroes recovering a precious family heirloom from a dangerous place."

"But Wraithmarsh, of all places?" Fairwind asked. Shaw was no stranger to the stories of Wraithmarsh; banshees roamed in the thick fog that covered the marshes, making people disappear, never to be seen again. There was a town within the marsh, once upon a time, but all the citizens were slaughtered by an unknown force, and the marsh swallowed it up. Shaw knew better to discredit the stories as old wives tales, but it sounded rather unreal until he looked upon the foggy marshes himself. "How are we supposed to find an urn in this fog?"

"You're a Hero, Fairwind, you're capable of a lot of things."

Shaw watched Fairwind raise his left hand, looking at the fingerless gauntlet he wore. A few embers sparked from the disc embedded into the palm of the glove. "I sure didn't ask to be one," he sighed.

"Let's go." Shaw started down the well worn trail, centuries old at this point. "While there is still..." Shaw looked up to the sky, where thick clouds blotted out the sun entirely. "...daylight." Fairwind grumbled under his breath as he followed close behind Shaw, down into the marshes.

The somewhat dry path didn't last long, and soon it was dipping down into the marshes and reappearing several paces out. "I am not walking through that," Fairwind said, stopping before the muck reached the path.

"Yes, you are." Shaw took two steps into the mire before he sunk all the way to his knees, the swampish water filling his boots in an instant. Shaw was glad Fairwind was behind him, as he couldn't help the thoroughly disgusted face he pulled for a moment.

"Having fun?" Fairwind asked.

Shaw turned at the waist to look back at Fairwind, seeing his arms crossed and a slightly amused grin across his face. "We could split up, if you rather."

As if on some terrifying cue, something in the fog let out a mournful wail. Fairwind's amusement turned into fear in an instant, afraid to be left alone in the marshes with whatever lurked in the fog. "Nope, nope." Fairwind rushed after Shaw into the marsh. "I am stuck to you like glue," he said, nearly pressing himself against Shaw's back.

"Good to hear." Shaw's words were followed by another wail, and Shaw placed two wary hands on the hilts of the daggers at his waist.

"Banshees aren't... real, right?"

"I don't know, I've never seen one."

"You've never–?" The wailing grew louder as the fog seemed to be getting thicker. Fairwind dropped his voice to a loud whisper as he continued, "how have you never seen a banshee? I thought you were this skilled fighter and assassin and whatnot."

"I rarely left Bowerstone before being assigned to watch after you, believe it or not," Shaw explained as he continued to trudge through the marsh, doing his best to be quiet with his movements.

"How did you get assigned to watching over a Hero when you hardly even did any monster slaying yourself?" Fairwind asked, staying of Shaw's heels.

"I distinctly remember beating you when you demanded we spar at the start of all this."

"Okay, first off, I was drunk at the time--"

"You're always drunk, Fairwind," Shaw interrupted as the two reached the other side, pulling out of the marsh and back onto the path.

"I'm not _nearly_ drunk enough for this, and secondly, you know that Strength isn't my strong suit."

"Perhaps you should put some effort into improving that, if you were easily beaten by a simple man." Shaw stopped to let Fairwind pour out his boots, knowing that it would bother the Hero far more than it bothered him after the initial shock. And knowing that Fairwind would stop to pour out his boots, regardless if Shaw waited for him or not.

As expected, Fairwind pulled off a boot, balancing on one leg as he poured out the mucked water. "I could beat you any day of the week," he boasted as he put his boot back on, switching to stand on his other foot and do the process all over again.

Shaw had no doubt that Fairwind could kill him in a fight to the death, no holds barred, but when he was restricted to just a sword, his lack of practice was transparent. Raw power could only get one so far. Regardless, Shaw couldn't help but say, "including Sunday mornings?"

"You're a wretched man, Sir Mathias." Flynn crossed his arms, overtly faking an insulted expression.

"Noted, your highness. Now let's get moving."

* * *

As it turned out, Wraithmarsh was more marsh than dry path, which Fairwind let Shaw know his displeasure about every time they had to trudge through the waters. "Why does there gotta be so many bloody ponds to run through in the middle of the damn road?" He grumbled.

"It is called Wraith_marsh,_ Fairwind." Shaw pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, silently counting to ten in an attempt to cultivate some patience. When he opened them, he was surprised to see the fog had gotten surprisingly thick in a short amount of time. "Did–"

"Would it kill them to, I don't know," Fairwind muttered, ignoring Shaw, "just make some bridges or something?"

"Fairwind," Shaw warned as he tried to peer out into the fog. There was something out there, and Shaw's gut instinct told him that there was definitely not another person out here with them.

"At least mix it up, throw some wraiths into the–" Shaw's eyes widened with realization, but before he could stop Fairwind, the banshee let out a startling wail.

Now, there was not many things that still made Shaw afraid. He had gone toe-to-toe with a pack of balverines countless times, the vague horror of hobbes had quickly melted into annoyance everytime they showed their faces, and he had killed enough hollow men to build a house out of bones. Not much made Shaw feel afraid, but the horrific screech the banshee let out shot a chill down his spine.

"You should _really_ tell me to shut up more," Fairwind said, very quietly, behind Shaw.

"I'm glad we're in agreement on that." Shaw pulled his daggers, watching the banshee float towards them. It was a menacing sight; long, emaciated, pale arms with clawed hands. Tattered clothing with a hood pulled over the head, completely hiding where a face would be. Shaw steeled himself and tightened his grip on his daggers.

Fairwind stepped around Shaw, standing at his left. His pistol wasn't in his hands, rather, both of his hands were raised, the gauntlets on either hand sparking with embers as he focused. "You... do know how to kill this, right?"

"What makes you think that I know how to kill banshees when I didn't know if they were actually real?" Shaw glanced towards Flynn, seeing a rather panicked expression across his face.

"Hope?" Fairwind cracked a nervous smile.

The banshee screamed once again, five glowing lights escaping the hood. The lights flew close to the two, plunging into the waters at their feet and emerging as shadowy figures, silhouettes of small children with pointed weapons and glowing red eyes. Fairwind yelped, hooking his right arm through Shaw's left and pulling him close as Fairwind let loose a ring of fire that surrounded the two, burning up all the shadowy figures with pigtails and little dresses, making squeaking noises as they died. "Bloody nightmares," Fairwind muttered under his breath as he pulled his arm back.

The banshee wailed, covering her face with gnarled hands as she seemed to mourn the children. "Eyes up," Shaw said, moving through the marsh towards the banshee as fast as he could, which wasn't that fast. A bolt of fire flew over Shaw's shoulder, into the face of the banshee. Shaw jammed a dagger up into what he believed to be the body of the stunned banshee. She cried out in pain, reaching a hand out and slashing at Shaw, clawed fingers catching skin as she swiped across his face. Shaw pulled back, and watched as the barrel of Fairwind's clockwork pistol is unloaded into the banshee's face. She screamed a final time as she appeared to dissipate into smoke.

There's sloshing from Fairwind behind him, reloading as he walked up and asked, "are you alright, mate?"

Shaw sheathed his daggers, his face stinging with pain. "It just scratched me," Shaw replied, and Fairwind hustled around Shaw to get a look at him.

Fairwind sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as his eyes fell on Shaw, bringing a gentle hand to Shaw's face. Shaw didn't pull away, against his better judgement, while Fairwind cupped his face. He examined Shaw's face, expression somber and sympathetic, before ultimately saying, "now your mug is even uglier."

Shaw scowled, which Fairwind smiled giddily at.

* * *

The house was rotting away, old and dilapidated as the mire ruined the wood that comprised of it. "This should be the place," Shaw said. After two more banshees and a lot of slogging through the marshes, he was growing quite tired of Wraithmarsh, both physically and emotionally.

"There's an urn in that?"

"Hopefully," Shaw sighed. The prospect of the heirloom not being in the building seemed to be a highly possible one, but ending up empty-handed and having gone out here for nothing was a rather demoralizing thought. "Let's be quick about this."

"Aye aye," Fairwind said as they both headed into the long abandoned home. The door was gone, the marsh water flooding the building half way up to Shaw's knee. The furniture had rotted away, leaving only two barren shelves remaining, while a hearth stood at one end of the house, the once red brick now painted a sickly brown and green from the waters. There was once stairs to the second floor, but they were long gone, only the top three fractured steps remaining. "Reckon it's upstairs?" Fairwind asked as he eyed the upper floor.

Shaw knew what Fairwind was thinking, and said, "you're too heavy, Fairwind, you'll send the house falling down on us."

Fairwind looked over to Shaw. "You're not."

Shaw opened his mouth to object, and found himself shutting it after a moment. Fairwind had a point; even with his Strength lacking compared to some of his relatives, he still had the heft of a Hero to his weight, while Shaw was leaner and much lighter in his step. And if the heirloom was up on the second floor, one of them would have to go up there to grab it. When Shaw couldn't muster an objection, Fairwind positioned himself under the ruined stairs, interlocked his fingers together and bent at the knees, looking expectantly at Shaw.

"Don't bring the house falling down on me, though," Fairwind commented as Shaw placed a boot in Fairwind's hands, gripping Fairwind by the shoulders to steady himself as he shifted his weight from the foot on the ground to the one in Fairwind's hands.

"If I do, I'll tell everyone you died heroically in a fight with several banshees." Shaw stood, now entirely resting his weight on Fairwind, who took it with only a little give. He reached for the stairs, finding the splintering wood bending easily at his touch.

Fairwind chuckled beneath Shaw. "Thanks, mate." Shaw tried the stair railing, surprised to find it sturdy at his touch. He reached up with his other hand, pulled hard against it, and when it didn't budge, he pulled himself up. The railing creaked a bit from the sudden weight, but it stayed sturdy, and Shaw thanked whatever higher power was watching over them. He hauled himself up onto the second floor, well practiced in the motions of pulling himself up. He carefully maneuvered himself up onto the floor, holding his breath as the wooden floor groaned under his weight. The floor doesn't fall out beneath him, however, and as Shaw crawled away from the edge, it seemed to take his weight with much less complaint. He let out a sigh of relief.

"What's up there?" Fairwind asked from below.

Shaw looked around. "Few beds, cupboard, a table with an urn on it."

Fairwind hummed. "Better check the cupboard," he said, smile audible in his voice.

Shaw did his best not to roll his eyes as he rose to his feet. He took careful steps over towards the urn, noticing a skeleton in one of the beds as he glanced over. Something took every living soul in the marsh, and Shaw wished he could better remember how the tale went. There was nothing but ghosts in this place, and as Shaw took the urn from the table, there was a pained howl from outside the house, followed by a banshee shrieking.

"Fog's getting thick again," Fairwind piped up from below, speaking over the sounds of movement in the marsh water.

"Don't leave the house," Shaw ordered as he crossed the upper floor, holding the urn to his chest. Getting separated in the fog could only end badly, and not being able to see Fairwind set the man on edge. Informing the King himself on how exactly he lost the old Hero's grandson was not something Shaw ever wanted to do.

Shaw can hear Fairwind cross the room again, sloshing through the water, as he said, "I won't, I won't." The wooden floor groaned and creaked as Shaw took trepidatious steps towards the edge of the upper floor. He peaked over the edge to see Fairwind staring up back at him. "Need me to catch you?" Fairwind grinned.

"I can get down fine, but I'd appreciate if you took the urn," Shaw said, crouching down underneath the railing and holding the urn out to Fairwind. Fairwind rubbed his hands together before jumping up, grabbing the bottom of the urn in a tight grip.

"Got it!" Fairwind looked over the urn. "This is what the lady wanted?"

"I believe so." Shaw he slid down from the upper floor, landing in the water with a splash.

"Garish," Fairwind commented with a hum. Another banshee scream sounded off in the not-so-distant distance as the fog seemed to threaten to spill into the house. "Think she'll leave us alone?"

"No."

The urn was shoved into Shaw's arms with a hasty, "take this," from Fairwind, and he crossed the room with the speed of a man trudging through swamp water.

"Fairwind!" Shaw hurried after him, at the same speed.

"Don't worry." Fairwind glanced over to Shaw as he headed out the door, flashing a cocky grin. "I'm a bit of a Hero."

When Shaw reached the doorway, he immediately noticed the banshee that stood not far outside the door, and Fairwind standing directly between the banshee and Shaw. Fairwind raised his hands and focused, seemingly staring down the banshee as she loomed. "Come at me, bastard!" He yelled out. The banshee did not seem to appreciate his goading, letting loose an ear-splitting screech in response and lunging for Fairwind. Fairwind let the banshee get close, dangerously so, before extending his hands out towards the banshee, and a large bolt of flame launched out from his palms.

Shaw had heard the more senior soldiers talk with borderline fanatic slant about what it was like to fight beside a Hero. How it was an inspiring, incredible feeling that made anything seem possible, how some of the generals had watched the tide turned in their favor at near impossible odds thanks to a single Hero. While Shaw would admit that he knew Fairwind could hold his own quite well in a fight, he hadn't really felt that same enthusiasm in regards to fighting beside Fairwind.

But with watching Fairwind singlehandedly destroying a banshee, seeing it burn up in the fiery inferno that he summoned, Shaw understood what the old guards were getting at. It was an incredible sight to see a Hero doing what they do best, and, oh, there was another feeling there.

Fairwind cackled in excitement as the banshee turned to smoke, saying, "look at that! Done killed it!" He turned to Shaw, a large grin on his face as he shook out his hands.

Shaw nodded, "Quite impressive, Fairwind." The smile across Fairwind's face somehow seemed to get larger, beaming with pride at his solo work. "Now let's get out of this place."

Fairwind let loose a sigh of relief. "I've been waiting to hear those words."

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it let me know, because I'll probably write more of this if people like it.


End file.
